


Prey

by Damian_Crim



Series: Prey [1]
Category: CaseyCooke, Dennis - Fandom, Kevin Wendell Crumb - Fandom, Patricia - Fandom, Split - Fandom, TheBeast
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-24 02:50:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14346429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Damian_Crim/pseuds/Damian_Crim
Summary: The Beast had Casey cornered with no way out. He didn't kill her, nor did he release her. Instead, he decided to keep her for some much darker reason. She was perfect, broken, and capable of so much.





	1. cornered

**Author's Note:**

> This first chapter is short and rather slow. I was trying to find the right setting to transition from actual movie events to my own events.   
> Hope you enjoy, leave your feedback in the comments.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her fingers twitched and trembled, her eyes widened in horror. She wanted to scream for help but her voice was gone. I'm going to die, her thoughts echoed. He snarled, his blood-stained teeth exposed like a dog baring its fangs.  
Casey let the shotgun drop to her side. It was useless at this point. Nothing could stop the Beast. Sweat beaded on his forehead and chest, shining in the dim light. He strained to pull the bars apart. Casey shook her head in disbelief; he was bending the iron bars with nothing but his bare hands. He's not human, that voice in her head confirmed. Tears began to streak down her face. I'm going to die.  
Suddenly, he froze. The corners of his mouth turned up into a sick and excited smile.  
"You are different from the rest." He said. His black eyes had trickled down her frame, landing on the scars that decorated Casey's now-exposed torso. Dozens of scars, each telling a dark story from the girl's past. Her lips trembled, still unable to form words.  
"Your heart is pure!" The Beast exclaimed. Veins bulged, blood glistened on his skin, and the maniacal grin, it all came together to make him look like some possessed priest proclaiming his faith. "The broken are the more evolved.... rejoice!" He shouted.  
The smile faded for a moment, as if he were expecting some response. Casey dropped the gun completely, now weeping. Suddenly he went back to prying at the bars. Her feet began to shuffle backwards until her back pressed against the wall of the cage.  
Inch by inch, the bars slowly spread apart. Those dark eyes stared her down as he stepped into the cell with her, breathing deep and heavy. She cried out loudly. There was nowhere to run, nothing to keep him away from her. He took another step closer, and another. Casey stared up in fear of this man, towering over her.  
"Help me, God." She barely whisper. He lifted his hand up to her shivering cheek, his skin hot against hers.  
"Don't you see...?" His voice was deep and haunting. His hand moved down to caress her jawline, his thumb tracing over her bottom lip. It was unwelcome and oddly familiar. "I am God."  
He then gripped her neck roughly, applying so much force that he lifted Casey clear off the ground. She kicked and clawed, trying to pry his fingers away but to no avail. Through her blurred vision all she could see was that menacing smile and those evil eyes. And everything slowly went dark, as if she had fallen into those eyes and been consumed.  
While Casey was unconscious, Patricia and Dennis had been at work. "They're going to come here looking for Dr. Fletcher." Dennis stated. He scrubbed the blood stains off the floor in circular motions. "We should leave." He added.  
"No. If we leave, it will only raise suspicion. We just dispose of the bodies and go on about things as normal." Patricia argued. Dennis contemplated silently for a moment.  
"I'm worried about that other one. The pure one." He finally spoke. "I don't approve of keeping her here, she's just going to cause more problems."  
"That's not for us to decide. He wanted her, and we must trust in him." Patricia persisted. He sighed, unable to argue with her. That girl was different than the other two, though. He hadn't quite pegged how she worked yet, and it made him nervous. Even worse, neither he nor Patricia was quite sure what the Beast had in mind for the girl. He swallowed hard as the thought crossed her mind.


	2. emotion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey wakes up in that same damned room as before, but something's different this time...  
> Why is Patricia acting so strange?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, a little slow. I'll be working on the third chapter today, and plan to bring Dennis back in.  
> If you have any ideas or critiques, just drop 'em in the comments.  
> Sincerely, Damian

Across town, a phone was ringing, but no one answered. An email was received, but never read. The psychologist’s office was too quiet and empty. Another voicemail was left on the phone. People were beginning to notice, Dr. Fletcher wasn’t answering. Something was wrong.  
The woods were quiet. Leaves fell in autumn colors, silently to the ground. Casey stood, admiring the beauty and peace. Her breath appeared like puffs of smoke in the cool air. She blinked slowly, trying to remember how she got here. When she opened her eyes, she saw her father standing in front of her. Her breath caught in her throat, “Daddy?”  
He looked at her with a concerned, yet tender look, “My beautiful baby girl.” His voice was warm and longing. Casey shook her head in confusion, but ran to embrace him. His arms wrapped around her and she inhaled, smelling that familiar cologne she remembered as a child.  
“I missed you.” She whimpered. His grip tightened on her. Something was wrong. This was not the gentle embrace of a father. Something was wrong. Casey hesitantly opened her eyes, looking up into those black eyes from before. Sinewy, claw-like arms grasped her tightly. “Rejoice!”  
She suddenly found herself sitting up on a bed. She had been dreaming. She took a few shaky heavy breaths, trying to collect herself before looking around. It was the same room as before, when she and the other girls had been kidnapped. She was sitting alone on her bed. She wiped the waterworks from her eyes, hoping that perhaps she was still dreaming. It all had seemed like a nightmare at this point. She brought her knees to her chest and sat with her head cradled for what seemed like hours. Each second she spent processing everything she had witnessed. I’m going to die.  
Eventually, she began to hear footsteps. It sounded like heels clattering on the concrete floor. Casey watched as the door opened, and Patricia came in. It was so bizarre seeing the same face of that monster she’d encountered, but having to accept that mentally this was a completely different person. She was wearing a blue sweater with a light gray cardigan, with her signature skirt and heels. Casey scooted back on the bed, trying to save space between her and this woman.  
“Child, I’m not going to hurt you…” Patricia cooed calmly. She set a small bundle of clothes on the foot of the bed. “I thought you may like to get freshened up. I imagine you may be hungry as well.” She went on. “So I brought you some clean clothes and ran you a bath. We’ll get you cleaned up and then I’ll fix you something to eat.” She lifted her eyebrows at the last offer.  
Casey couldn’t make herself move. She sat there, staring at Patricia emotionlessly. Patricia let out a sharp sigh, “Come, now. Don’t be difficult. We have some other things to discuss as well.” The proper tone of Patricia’s voice was the big selling point of this personality. She was so precise and collected.  
After another moment of apprehensive silence, Casey finally stood from the bed. A twinge of pain shot from her left leg. She winced, remembering where the Beast had dug his teeth into her calf.  
“Oh dear, that’s a rather nasty wound. I must tend to that.” Patricia spoke. She took Casey by the arm and helped her to the bathroom. She set her on the toilet and motioned to remove Casey’s pants. Casey inched away.  
“Silly girl. Though I may look different, I assure you that I am indeed a woman. There’s absolutely no reason to be modest with me.” Patricia scolded. Casey shook her head, eyes wide, “The man, he-“  
“Don’t worry, Dennis isn’t here. He can’t see anything right now.” She assured the girl. Casey swallowed, lifting her shaky hands. She tugged her pants off, letting them drop on the floor. She sat before Patricia in nothing but her underwear and that little green crop top. Gently, Patricia lifted her leg, examining the injury.  
“I’ll need to get the antiseptic and the bandages. Why don’t you finish undressing and get in the tub. I’ll be back soon to finish tending to you.” Patricia told her. Casey nodded, still not sure of what to say. And just like that, she was gone, shutting the door behind her.  
Casey finished stripping away her clothes, and slowly stepped into the warm bath. The water stung her leg, but it wasn’t unbearable. Casey had felt worse. She sunk down into the water, taking slow deep breaths. She was more terrified now than she was when she first arrived here. She had witnessed what every facet of her kidnapper was capable of. This man, or woman, whichever, was a monster. And to make things even worse now, Casey was completely alone. Claire and Marcia were gone. Her thoughts reeled back to the sight of Claire’s body on the ground, her insides being ripped out. She shuddered, tears coming back to her eyes.  
The bathroom door opened again. Patricia had brought a medical kit. Casey’s hands flew up to cover her body. Patricia rolled her eyes and simply asked her to lift her leg from the water while she tended it. She hummed a whimsical tune, while dabbing the antiseptic onto each tooth-shaped puncture in Casey’s flesh. She followed with antibiotic ointment and fresh bandage.  
“Just keep that leg propped up and out of the water, I know it can’t be completely comfortable but it’s only for the best.” Patricia explained. Casey nodded, doing as she was told. She propped her foot up on the side of the bathtub, trying not to get it wet. Patricia then pulled a small stool up beside the tub. She took a seat and began rinsing Casey’s hair in the water. Casey shuttered.  
“Hush, hush. I’m only doing you a favor.” She murmured as she soaked the girl’s hair. For a moment, Casey imagined how this must have felt when a mother washed her child’s hair. Patricia, ever humming, massaged light scented shampoo into her hair, and rinsed. For a split moment, Her fingers brushed Casey’s shoulder. She lingered on her scars, before sighing, “You poor thing, you’ve gone through so much.” She then stood and handed Casey the sponge and soap.  
“I’ll leave you to the rest. When you’re finished, just come down to the kitchen. Your clothes will be on the foot of your bed.” She stated before leaving again.  
Casey sat in the water as long as she could. Her brows furrowed. She thought of Marcia and Claire. They weren’t close, but regardless, those girls didn’t deserve what happened to them. It should’ve been me, she thought. She felt guilty. She felt more alone now than she ever had before. Her mind wandered further, to her captor. She couldn’t bring herself to call him a man, because that’s not what he was. Perhaps at one point he had been, but now? Not at all.  
She was simply lost. He had her cornered, helpless and vulnerable, but he didn’t kill her. Why was she still here? She was afraid to even ponder on what sort of scheme they had in store for her at this point. Chills shot across her skin. That gesture, entirely too gentle, was enough to send this fiend into an entirely different category of evil. She found herself sobbing, her shoulders shaking.  
A quiet knock came from the door, snapping Casey out of her mournful episode.  
“Everything alright, child?” Patricia’s voice questioned.  
“I’m fine.” Casey answered, sniffling.  
“Well come along. Your food is getting cold and we still need to speak about some things.” Patricia reminded her.  
Casey heard the heeled footsteps fade away, and slowly climbed from the tub. The air was cold against her skin. Her hair was still dripping wet. She took the plain white towel from the shelf and wrapped it around her torso tightly. She noticed the door of the bedroom was slightly ajar. Patricia had left it open for her. On the bed, the set of clothes had been spread out. She cringed, picking up a pair of panties. They still had the tags on them. He had bought her underwear. She grimaced, sliding them up her slender thighs. She slipped into a pair of black leggings that were set out as well. There was no bra to be found, which made her even more uncomfortable. Lastly, she lifted up the shirt and pulled it over her head quickly. It was men’s medium, light gray. She frowned, realizing it must’ve belonged to one of Kevin’s personalities.  
A savory smell met her as she wandered down the dim hallway. Her mouth felt dry, her stomach ached, but in all truth she couldn’t even imagine eating at the moment.  
In the kitchen, Patricia was chopping vegetables. “There you are. I was beginning to think you’d drowned.” She retorted. The girl shrugged, silently wishing she had. Patricia pulled a chair out from the table, motioning for her to sit. A plate was set before her. Lasagna and salad. The image of Claire’s insides flashed before her eyes, and she gagged. She turned away quickly, covering her mouth.  
“You don’t like Italian? I may have put too much garlic in it.” Patricia raised her eyebrows. Casey shook her head, “I’m just not hungry…”  
Patricia sighed, clearly not pleased with this answer. “Fine, you can eat it cold later then.” She snapped. She took the plate from the table and set it in the refrigerator. Casey stared down at the table, folding her hands in her lap. Patricia sat a cup of tea in front of her. Casey looked up at her skittishly to see her holding her own cup as well.  
“It’s only chamomile, to calm the nerves.” She spoke gently, despite her recent actions. Casey lifted it slowly with both hands and sipped.  
“Forgive me,” she spoke, taking a seat alongside Casey, “I can be a bit rash sometimes. Things have been stressful for all of us lately. I know it has been for you as well.” She went on. Casey shot her a cold glare without thought.  
“Don’t be cross, I’m only making friendly conversation.” Patricia’s expression became more thoughtful and she ran her thumb across the rim of her teacup.  
“You’re special to him, you know? He’s chosen to keep you. For someone of his majesty to choose another pure soul, it must be for something truly magnificent…” She was talking about the Beast. Casey’s hands began to tremble. She gritted her teeth. She couldn’t stand it.  
“You’re such a lucky gir-“ Patricia spoke, just as Casey suddenly swung the teacup. It broke upon connecting with Patricia’s temple. Her hands went up to her face, Casey scrambled to her feet. The chair fell over to the floor. She sprung for the hallway, not looking back.  
She was almost to the door at the end of the hall, its handle within reach when she felt an arm wrap around her waist. Another hand grabbed her shoulder, jerking her to the cold ground. She screamed and fought against Patricia as she drug Casey down the hall. She kicked the bedroom door out of her way and slung Casey to the ground in front of her.  
“You wretched, ungrateful little girl!” Patricia shouted, her British accent making her sound like a movie villain. Casey stumbled to her feet, just to be met with a harsh slap to the face. She backed away, stunned.  
“Don’t you see how lucky you are? The Beast chose you for some damned reason, but goodness knows I haven’t a clue why.” She blustered. Casey clutched her palm to her stinging cheek. She had never seen Patricia so angry, even when Marcia had tried to escape. She then took a deep breath, and lifted a single finger in Casey’s direction. “I was kind to you. Remember that.” She spoke slowly, each word filled with venom.  
The cup had busted against Patricia’s temple, causing a tiny trickle of blood to seep down the side of her face.  
“I must go clean up the mess you’ve made… I’ll expect an apology when I return, you pathetic little whim.” She added that last comment with a hiss. She spun around and left, slamming and locking the door behind her.  
Casey curled her hands into fists, reaching for the pillow off her cot. She buried her face in it and screamed. It was as if every emotion imaginable had filled her. Anger toward Patricia, sadness for Claire and Marcia, disgust for Dennis, joy for simply being alive, and fear for the Beast.


	3. dirty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Casey's desperate. Patricia's upset. So, now Dennis will take over.  
> 

The air was too still. Casey licked her chapped lips. Aside from her own breathing, not a single sound echoed in this room. She clutched her arms to her torso, almost subconsciously, to feel safe. She remembered countless nights, lying in her own bedroom in this same fetal position. When you're trapped, with no one to turn to, you learn to comfort yourself.  
Time passed, but she had no idea how much. There was no clock, no natural light.  
"We've got to stick together." Her uncle's voice rang in her head. Memories flooded back to her of those devastating nights when he would creep into her room. "We're all each other's got." he would say, caressing her skin with his rough, disgusting hands, "And I'll take care of you."  
Her stomach turned and twisted, remembering his sick voice. That slow, unwanted gesture, just like that of that monster. She just wanted out. She had to get out.  
She found a hairbrush in the bathroom. She took a seat on the bed and began brushing her hair slowly. Marcia and Claire would be trying to find some way out of here. No, Casey corrected herself, they would still be locked in a closet somewhere. She pulled the brush through her sleek hair, which fell down her back like an oil spill.  
She remembered this feeling, like a pressure on her chest. Desperation squeezing at her lungs, so heavy until she could feel the sting of tears longing to burst forth. She wanted to sob, scream, beg for help, but she wouldn't let herself. Crying didn't help before, and it wouldn't now.  
A quiet knock at the door seemed to wake her up from her own train of thought. He walked in, clad in gray, the thin-framed glasses gave it away. It was the man, Dennis.  
"I thought you might be asleep." He spoke. Casey stared, wide-eyed at him. He wanted her to be asleep. "Patricia wanted me to check on you, she said you'd probably be hungry." He explained further. He set a plate in front of Casey, a perfectly clean cut sandwich. The idea of eating anything made her sick, but she was starving.

As she lifted the food to her mouth for a bite, he pulled out the chair. Casey dug her teeth into the bread.  
"Patricia also told me what you did." He added with a more condescending tone. He sounded like an angry parent. Casey chewed quickly and swallowed. Her throat was dry but she couldn't care less. She took another bite, her eyes flitted to him for a moment.  
She realized he was staring, watching her. His brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin line. She took a bite, and set the food down. Chewing still, she lifted her knees to her chest to hide any shape or figure of her body.  
Dennis shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He folded his arms across his chest, taking a deep breath. "She's very upset, so she'll be taking a break from the light for awhile." He furthered, "What you did was childish." Casey stared back, no response. His eyes went to her thighs, lingering just a fraction of a moment too long, before he could pry away. Casey's skin crawled.

He stood, taking another deep breath. Without a word, he left. The door was still open. Casey thought about running, but she remembered the way Dennis had drug her back before. She had to slow him down. She had to do something.  
In a minute he was back. He silently handed her a glass of water. For that she was grateful, but for his company, she was disgusted. He watched her like a hungry dog. She could feel his eyes on her. He watched the movement of her muscles, the way her throat shifted when she swallowed, the way her dark eyes glared back. She is so beautiful, he thought longingly.  
"You remind me a church mouse." He stated, adjusting his stance. Casey still didn't reply. He reached out to take the glass, and just like before, Casey's mind began to race. One more time.  
Her grip tightened and she flung the glass at him. Dennis threw his arm up, the glass pelting him and shattering on the floor as Casey lunged from the bed. Before she could reach the door, he had reached and grabbed her forearm. He twisted it harshly, "What is wrong with you?" He shouted.  
He wrenched her wrist, and shoved her against the wall. "Look at this, look what you did!" He barked. Looking at the glass-covered floor. Casey tried to make another run for the door, but he grabbed her and pinned her against the wall once more.  
"Just fucking stop!" He screamed angrily. The veins along his temples protruded. He released her arms, bringing his hand up to his forehead. "Patricia was right, all you're doing is causing more problems." He groaned, red-faced.  
He suddenly froze, his eyes on Casey's torso. "What the hell?" He asked, suddenly calm. Casey looked down, trembling a bit. Her shirt was soaking wet from the water splashing across her. She shook her head, slowly looking back up at him. She knew what was coming.  
"Are you serious? Your shirt is ruined." He stated. She felt like she couldn't cry any more, but the tears welling up in her eyes proved her wrong.  
"Take it off." He ordered. Casey shook her head, "I can't..." She whimpered. He clutched his hands into fists, "Do it, or I will." He threatened. Casey brought her arms up to shield her body slowly, still shaking her head.  
He took one last deep breath, and went at her. She tried to push him away, but it was no use. He pinned her wrists to the wall and grabbed at the bottom of her shirt. He tore it off her like he was toying with a child. Casey's hands flew up to cover her breasts, as she collapsed to the ground crying.  
Dennis stepped back, shocked for a moment. She wasn't wearing a bra. She was bare, in front of him. A bead of sweat formed on his forehead and his hand trembled a bit. He swallowed, looking down at her. He couldn't help it.  
He took the step forward, and reached down. His hands wrapped around her forearms firmly, as he pulled her back to her feet. Casey turned to look away, sobbing. He put her hands at her sides, and took it in. She was gorgeous, even with the scars. Milky, beautiful skin. Dark, sleek hair. He found his hands going to her stomach, as he leaned in close. Her chest heaved with her cries. His nose brushed against her jawline as he breathed her in.  
"P-please stop..." Casey whimpered, still refusing to look him in the eye. One of his hands trickled up to caress her breast, while the other's fingertips dipped along the waist of her leggings. His breathing was uneven. He was lost in his own lust.  
"The b-beast.... You're not supposed to..." She still begged. A tiny smirk spread across his mouth, "You're not food anymore..." He murmured lowly. Casey wailed, lifting her arms. She pushed against his chest weakly, but he wasn't phased. If anything, he liked it. Her skin felt like silk against his. He breathed in every bit of her scent, hungry, savoring it.  
"What are you doing?" Patricia's voice suddenly rang in his head. Dennis froze. Casey noticed, slowly turning to face him. She could see the internal struggle playing across his face. He mumbled something angrily, withdrawing his hands. He let out a ragged, angry breath, and suddenly slammed his hand against the wall right beside Casey's face. She flinched, the tears falling down her cheeks slowly.  
Again, without a word, Dennis was gone. Casey fell to the ground, wrapping her arms around her torso. She was hyperventilating, holding her own shoulders. Suddenly, the door swung open once more.  
"Clean this up. I have to go." Dennis announced, dropping a broom and dustpan on the ground awkwardly. He wouldn't dare take another step toward her. He turned, slamming and locking the door behind him.  
She wasn't safe here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt like pulling teeth. I must've rewritten at least 3 versions of it, but this one, I'm praying, you all will enjoy.  
> I apologize for the time, seems my good old friend Depression decided to pay me a visit.


End file.
